Secret Keeper
by TheHamsterInMyMind
Summary: A new point-of-view on an old character. Why are there always secrets? Catherine-centric one-shot


**AN:** This was just something that came up in my head, and it was partially inspired by another character Marg had played, KC on Chinabeach. I hope it's okay. As always, feedback is appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own nothin'.

** Secret-Keeper**

I don't think many people understand my sister at times. Most can't even get past the mask that she wears. For example, as we sit now in the middle of the service, I know that some of her teammates are wondering about her grief, about the regret that she's showing at the death of a man who had seemed to be nothing but trouble, a man whom she had been reluctant to get close to in the first place.

As I sit here in the front pew with Jeremy and my husband on one side and Lindsey on the other, I watch her grip her daughter's hand for a moment before reaching over with both hands to comfort our weeping mother.

It's ironic. For all the legend that Sam Braun was and is, this service is remarkably simple and ordinary. His death, which had made LV headlines, soon became yesterday's news in a city that seems to be on a constant buzz.

I glance once again at my sister's co-workers. They look awkward and out of place in the crowd that consisted of Braun's business partners and friends (and some enemies most likely), several of which had most likely crossed the line at one point or another. No, they don't belong here, and they don't understand why my sister is here. Family is family, but I don't think they'll ever accept that Catherine actually considered this man family.

Of all the people here, I am probably the only who truly understands and knows her (though I've wished more than once that it wasn't the case). I am my sister's secret keeper after all, a secret she has probably spent her entire life trying to forget, but… you can never entirely cover the scars made by your past.

I saw its influence when she stuck by Eddie through all the years of abuse and fighting. He was Lindsey's father, her biological father, and that in itself made him invaluable, no matter how big a jerk he was. He loved Lindsey as well. That much was clear, and it made it all that much harder for her to separate herself from him.

I still see _his_ (and I'm not talking about Eddie Willows) influence whenever she has those flings, her reluctance to commit to anyone who is not Lindsey's biological father. It even explains her resentment and love for the man in that casket. I hate Sam Braun, not for all that he did. Yeah, he was a murderer, and he left my mom in a mess, but he had doted on Cath in her younger years and continued to dote on her when she first came to Vegas. Whatever you say, that man was capable of love, and he loved Cath. That much I know. However, that doesn't change the fact that I hate him because of all that he didn't do.

Cath had told me before that he once told her that he had wanted to take her home with him the day they met, before I was even born. She had just been a six months old baby. Most people would wonder why she was crying even as she told me that with a smile on her face.

You see, the truth lies in the past, years ago, decades ago. The truth, and the secret is the truth, begins in Montana. Our father wasn't stupid. He had soon figured out that Cath wasn't his. I was his precious. Cath simply wasn't, and perhaps, it would never have grown any worse if our mother didn't have the wandering gene built in. She couldn't remain faithful, but our father still loved her blindly and obsessively.

There were times in his most drunken ramblings that I could hear him mutter that he could only recognize half of Cath, and it was most likely that half that drove him to do what he did.

I still remember the first night I heard my sister crying interspersed with my father's moans. I was five… She was eight. When I asked her why she walked funny the next day, when I asked if "daddy" had hurt her, her eyes had widened, and she made me promise never to tell. Never. I was sworn to absolute secrecy. I don't think she completely understood what had happened, but she did know that it wasn't right. However, at that point, "daddy" was still her father, and she was afraid for me. Cath was and still is stupidly loyal to those she loves. She knew daddy was angry with mom, and he had been drinking. It would probably never happen again.

She was wrong.

Countless nights, months, and years passed, and I saw my sister changing before my eyes. She stopped crying. Initially, she played the part of the perfect daughter with the perfect grades, the one who always finished all her chores early and volunteered to help with the horses. I guess she hoped that one day it would be enough for him to stop, and maybe, even love her a little bit in a way that didn't involve him in her bed…, as a father should. The worst part, for me, was that the man never gave me a reason to despise him as I ought to have.

As my sister grew up though, things began to change. She began to understand all too well the truth of the matter, and as she grew up, she began pulling away, rebelling against a mother that did not understand and did nothing to help, hating the man that she called her "father," hating the truth, and hating the lies. I was her only confidant, and to be honest, I looked up to her. I still do. I see her smile, and I see her standing tall and proud where anyone else might have been broken by now. I would have certainly broken.

Eventually, something did break, and my sister ran away. She made me promise again, but this time she added something to that promise.

"Nancy, no Nancy, stop clinging and look at me darn it! Look, you can't tell mom okay? She's happy here right now. Don't spoil her illusions. And look, Nancy, if he ever touches you in the wrong way, and I mean _ever_. You call me right away, and I'll come back." She handed me a small piece of paper with contact information. We both knew that it would most likely never happen. After all, daddy did love me.

She did return a year later but was kicked out of home anyway. When I sneaked out to meet her in the park that night, she told me her plans. She was going to start a new life, in Vegas. Meeting my eyes for the first time that night, I saw that there was no talking her out of it.

Fifteen years later, after my dad died, both mom and I moved out to Vegas. I started my own family and settled down while I stood by and helped my sister whenever I could. I was happy to be her crutch. I had spent too many years being no help to her. I babysat for Lindsey, I helped her through the divorce, I comforted her when she started crying about accusing and 'flipping out' on a man that she had thought had impregnated his daughter, I've been the shoulder that she could always count on to be there when she gets tired, and I will continue to stand by her and watch carefully to make sure that those old scars don't get split open again. That's a promise.


End file.
